October 12
I stood by the window of my flat, watching the rain blur the evening into a watercolor wash. Thirtyone years oldan age when you stop expecting miracles yet still remember how they ought to feel. Im a consultant at a firm in the City, earn a decent salary, and rent a spacious flat in a respectable part of north London. Life has been predictable and calm.
My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. Moms number. I lowered the TV volume and answered.
Ellie, love, are you home? her voice trembled with worry.
Yes, Mum, Im here. Whats happened?
Your dad and I are coming over. We need to talk.
A knot tightened in my stomach. When they say they need to talk, it usually means new trouble for Tom, my younger brother, twentyfive, who seems to collect mishaps like stamps.
Half an hour later they were seated at my kitchen table. Dad stared at his hands, Mum fidgeted with the strap of her handbag.
Do you know what Toms gotten himself into? Mum began.
What exactly? I tried to stay out of their assumptions.
He hes in a bind. Remember when we gave him the money from selling the cottage? He bought a motorcycle
Mum, weve already talked about that. I warned you the money should have stayed in a savings account, not handed straight to Tom.
He promised, dear! Mums voice slipped into a childish plea. He was going to rent a flat, marry Lucy
But instead he blew the cash in bars, Lucy left him, and he bought the bike to heal his soul, I added. Did I guess right?
Dad finally lifted his eyes.
He crashed into a car in the car park. An expensive cara Porsche.
No insurance?
No, Mum whispered. You know how he always thinks nothing bad will ever happen to him.
I poured myself a cup of tea, trying not to show irritation. Tom always believed he was untouchable because we always bailed him out.
How much?
Three hundred thousand pounds, Mum exhaled. The owner has agreed to a payment plan, but we need to hand over half immediately or hell send enforcement officers.
I nodded. It all made sense. Now the real drama would begin.
Ellie, love, Mum took my hand, weve decided to sell your car.
My car?
Formally its in Dads name, she hurriedly added. We gave it to you when we sold the cottage. But Toms in trouble, and youd end up walking everywhere. Youre still young, still healthy.
I gently slipped my hand free.
I dont agree.
Girl, its family, Mum raised her voice. Tom is your brother! Hes tormented, cant sleep, has lost weight!
Mum, has he tried to get a job? Or at least go to the Jobcentre?
Ellie, what job could he find in a week? Mum looked at me, baffled. He cant earn that much straight away!
But I could lose the car in a week?
Dad finally spoke, his voice low but firm.
Ellie, weve already decided. Your opinion doesnt matter now. The car is registered to me, Ill sell it whenever. I dont want to argue with you, but theres no choice.
I stared at Dadthe man who taught me to ride a bike, read bedtime stories, be proud of my university achievements. Now he calmly told me my voice didnt count.
Dad, I said slowly, choosing my words, what will happen next time Tom lands in trouble?
There wont be a next time, Mum snapped back. He promised hed stop gambling, stop
Hes promised that a dozen times already.
Ellie, come on! Mum began to cry. Hes your brother! How can you be so cruel?
I walked to the window. The rain hammered harder. I thought back to six months ago when Tom asked me for money for the essentials, and I gave him twenty thousand pounds. He spent it on new trainers and a night out with friends.
Actually, I turned to my parents, I have news. I transferred the car into my name a month ago.
Silence fell. Mum stopped crying, Dad lifted his gaze.
How?
It was simple. I had a power of attorney from Dad when we were selling the cottage. I forged a deed of gift and reregistered the car to myself. I knew it would eventually be needed to be sold for Toms sake.
You you forged documents? Dad stared, stunned.
Yes. And I dont regret it. Im tired of rescuing my brother from his own messes.
Mum clutched her chest.
Ellie, how could you! Were family!
Thats exactly why I did it, I said, sitting back down. Mum, Dad, you never really help Tom. You make him dependent, an invalid. At twentyfive he cant solve a single problem because he knows youll always step in.
But hell end up in prison! Mum shouted. Theyll lock him up!
He wont go to prison for debt. At most theyll bar him from travelling abroad, and he barely leaves the house anyway. This will finally make him see that actions have consequences.
Dad remained silent, staring at the table. I could see him wrestling with his own thoughts.
Ellie, he finally whispered, please sell the car. Well buy you a new one later.
When later? When Tom lands in trouble again?
He wont.
He will, Dad. He doesnt know how to live any other way. And you wont say no to him.
Mum, she said, taking my hands, what are you doing? Hes your son!
Thats why I wont give him money. Look at himtwentyfive, living at home, unemployed, gambling away what little he has left. Hes degrading, and you dont see it.
He just hasnt found himself yet, Mum said, unsure.
At twentyfive you should be looking, or at least start looking.
They left, achieving nothing. I was left alone at the kitchen table, sipping cold tea. My phone was silenttheyd obviously gone off to Tom with more bad news.
An hour later Tom called.
Ellie, are you losing it? his voice trembled with anger. Do you realise what youre doing?
I do, Tom. For the first time in ages I understand.
They might lock me up!
You cant be locked up for debt.
Ellie, please! This manhes serious! Its money! Where am I supposed to get it?
Where everyone gets moneywork.
What work? Who would want me?
Tom, you can drive, you can talk to people. You have hands, a brain. Youll find something.
In a week?
Maybe. Or you could negotiate a longer payment plan with the car owner. Adults usually give a hand if they see youre trying.
Ellie, his voice softened, why are you so angry? This could happen to anyone.
Not to anyone, Tom. Only to someone irresponsible who never learned to drive properly and didnt even think of insurance!
He hung up.
The following months were hard. Mom barely called. When I visited, the house was heavy with unspoken tension. They never mentioned Tom, but his absence was felt in every sigh.
From bits and pieces I learned Tom was looking for work. He tried courier jobs, driving, loading. Eventually he landed a job at a garagewashing cars and handing tools. The pay was modest, but it was work.
Strangely, the owner of the wrecked Lexus turned out to be a decent bloke. When he learned Tom was actually employed, he agreed to keep the payment plan. Tom moved into a flat he shared with two other lads. Parents helped with the deposit but refused to hand over more cashthanks to my firm stance.
Mom, if you give him money hell quit straight away, I told them during one rare visit. Let him learn to rely on himself.
But he lives on a single bowl of porridge, Mum complained. Hes thin, pale.
Then hell find a better job. Or a sidegig.
And indeed, a few months later Tom took a parttime gig fixing old cars for parts. He discovered a knack for mechanicscalloused hands, an eye for how things fit together.
I heard about it in fragments from Mom, who gradually softened. Dad sometimes spoke with a cautious pride, mentioning how Tom had repaired a neighbours car or helped a friend with wiring.
About a year after that kitchen confrontation, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to Tom, cheeks flushed, holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums.
Hi, he said. Can I come in?
I stepped aside. He set the flowers on the table and sat in the same chair Dad had occupied a year before.
Beautiful flowers, I said. Chrysanthemums.
Thanks, he murmured, looking at his handsnow the hands of a worker, knuckles bruised, dirt under the nails. Im here to thank you.
For what?
For not giving you the money.
I sat opposite him.
Alright, tell me.
I started my own little garage in a shed. Small, but its mine. I fix cars, sell parts, earn a decent wage. Ive even paid back that bloke already.
Congrats, I replied.
You know, I used to hate you. Thought you were selfish and cruel. I didnt understand why you wouldnt help your brother.
Now you get it?
Now I see. If youd handed over the cash, Id still be lounging at home, waiting for you to sort my problems. Instead I had to grow up.
I nodded.
Was it hard?
You have no idea, Tom answered honestly. The first months I thought about quitting every dayworking for pennies, sharing a flat with strangers, cutting meals down. Then I got into it, found I liked working with my hands, fixing things, understanding how they work.
Did your parents step back?
Mum now tells everyone my sons an entrepreneur. Tom chuckled. Dad drops by the garage sometimes, helps out, says hes proud.
We sat in silence, watching each other. Tom looked older than his twentysix years, but in a good wayconfidence in his posture, calm in his eyes.
Ellie, he said finally, I dont deserve forgiveness. Ive been a burden for years
Tom, I interrupted, you werent a burden. You were a spoiled kid. Thats different.
Maybe. But Im not a kid any more.
Not a kid.
Tom rose and walked to the window, the same rainsoaked autumn evening, only a year later.
Strangest thing, he said without turning, Im happier now. I live better, have more money, more responsibilities, but Im happier. You know why?
I do. When you earn your own money, you spend it differently. When you solve your own problems, they stop feeling insurmountable.
Exactly. And Ive met someoneKatie. She works at a bank, very proper. Were thinking of moving in together.
Congrats, I said.
Thanks. Ellie, can I still drop by sometimes? Just to talk. I miss you.
Of course.
We embraced, the kind of hug you get back when you were children, before cars, debts, and grudges.
By the way, I have a car nowa battered Toyota I fixed myself. It runs like new.
Good on you.
Its thanks to you not letting me stay a child forever.
After he left, I lingered at the kitchen, looking at the chrysanthemumsbright yellow, fluffy, with that sharp autumn scent.
I thought about how love for family can make us hurt them, how hard it is to say no when asked for help, and how sometimes saying no forces someone to say yes to themselves.
Outside the rain continued, but now it felt cleansing rather than bleak, washing away old grudges, old fantasies, making room for something new, adult, real.
I placed the flowers in a vase, turned on the kettle. Tomorrow is another day, but tonight Im simply glad I have a brothera real, grown brother who now knows how to fix problems and bring flowers home.
